


Going Postal

by captainbarnes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Mushy, Nicknames, Pen Pals, Sarcastic Castiel, Shy Dean, Slow Build, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, again another fic I deleted but decided to republish, long distance, they flirt so much omg that was so fun to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 11:25:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1743044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainbarnes/pseuds/captainbarnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel,<br/>Hi. My name’s Dean, just Dean — that’s all you’re getting out of me.<br/>I don’t really know what else to say, I’m not good at this and I really don’t want to talk much. But it’s for a grade, and I’m already flunking English, so I guess I don’t have a choice.<br/>Your name is weird as fuck.<br/>— Dean</p><p>Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak became pen pals because of a school assignment, and they tried not to get attached to one another. They really did. Sort of. Barely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going Postal

_Castiel,_

_Hi. My name’s Dean, just Dean — that’s all you’re getting out of me._

_I don’t really know what else to say, I’m not good at this and I really don’t want to talk much. But it’s for a grade, and I’m already flunking English, so I guess I don’t have a choice._

_Your name is weird as fuck._

_— Dean_

_—_

_**Just Dean,** _

_**Well, around these parts, maybe your name is weird as fuck. Castiel is a very common name here in New York. There are six Castiel’s in my homeroom, along with five Jesus’ and two Cher’s.** _

_**You can call me Cas if it bothers you so much.** _

_**I don’t really understand why our teachers think this will benefit our learning experience. How do they even know each other? Kansas is so far away, you live in the middle of nowhere!** _

_**But it is an easy A, you must admit.** _

_**Sincerely,** _

_**Castiel** _

_—_

_Cas,_

_Well, aren’t you just a little smart ass? And they used to be friends in college or something, at least that’s what Mr. Shurley said._

_Kansas rules, so you can shut the fuck up right now, you little bitch. It’s way better than loud cars and skyscrapers and shit._

_— Dean_

_—_

_****Dean,** ** _

_****Sorry if I offended you. I wasn’t aware that you love Kansas so much.** ** _

_****You want to kiss Kansas.** ** _

_****You want to touch Kansas.** ** _

_****You want to marry Kansas.** ** _

_****Kansas.** ** _

_****Sincerely,** ** _

_****Castiel** ** _

_—_

_****Dean,** ** _

_****Okay, I wrote my last letter over two months ago. It’s almost February, Dean.** ** _

_****Sorry if I pissed you off, but we need to keep up the letter writing or else we’re out a grade.** ** _

_****Please, I promise not to make fun of Kansas anymore.** ** _

_****As hard as that may be.** ** _

_****Sincerely,** ** _

_****Castiel** ** _

_—_

_Cas,_

_Haha, I’m not mad about the Kansas shit! I’ve just been busy. There’s a reason I’m flunking a lot of my classes, I just don’t have the time to keep up with the work._

_But I’ll try to keep up with you, I swear._

_And sorry that this letter is a little late, too._

_— Dean_

_—_

_****Dean,** ** _

_****Well, well, well, look what the Western Meadowlark dragged in.** ** _

_****And what do you mean ‘a little late’? We’re in the middle of March, Dean. Late, late, late on top of late.** ** _

_****But it’s okay, really. I found out that half of my classmates have only sent like two letters, no one’s really taking the assignment seriously. We have all the time in the world, you and I.** ** _

_****Why don’t you have the time for your classes, if you don’t mind me asking?** ** _

_****Sincerely,** ** _

_****Castiel** ** _

_—_

_Cas,_

_Wow, your jokes are really, really lame. Resorting to making fun of our state bird? That’s just pathetic, man._

_That’s a relief to hear. Maybe now our teachers will take a hint and cancel the assignment. Not that you haven’t been fun. Kind of a pick me up, actually._

_And, I dunno, it’s…complicated. God, that makes me sound like an asshole, huh?_

_— Dean_

_—_

_****Dean,** ** _

_****My jokes aren’t lame, you’re lame, Kansas is lame.** ** _

_****Pick me up, you say? Huh, wonder why. Jokes.** ** _

_****Can’t really think of anything I’ve said that could make you smile.** ** _

_****Jokes.** ** _

_****Nope, not a thing.** ** _

_****Kansas jokes.** ** _

_****C’mon, write it with me, Dean:** ** _

_****Kansas sucks.** ** _

_****The truth will set you free, and all that jazz.** ** _

_****And you don’t have to tell me, I was just curious. You aren’t an asshole for wanting your privacy, it’s completely understandable.** ** _

_****I’m not really a big fan of sharing my personal life with a piece of paper, either, so I know where you’re coming from.** ** _

_****Sincerely,** ** _

_****Castiel** ** _

_—_

_Cas,_

_Shit, school’s almost over out here, can you believe it? One more month._

_June fourth and I’m a free man, no more high school. I managed to bring my grades up some, so I should be able to pass._

_Thanks for being understanding, that’s cool of you. The truth is that I don’t really have time for class because I work two jobs: one at the old diner by my trailer park, the other at my uncle Bobby’s auto shop._

_Sometimes school just has to come last._

_We never talk about you much, do we?_

_What are you like, Cas?_

_Sincerely,_

_Dean_

_P.S. Kansas sucks._

_—_

_**Kansas Hater,** _

_**Wow. I’m a bit surprised to hear from you, seeing as the assignment was cancelled in April. Not that I’m complaining, really, write away. It’s nice to have a pen pal.** _

_**Oh, wow, that’s what we are now. Pen pals. God, we sound like thirteen year old girls.** _

_**I’ll be free before you, haha, loser. I graduate in a three days. May thirty-first, baby. Of course, June 4th isn’t that far off. By the time you get this, we’ll both be done.** _

_**Thank you for telling me that, I feel very honored that you opened up to me. I’m serious. And I’m happy you managed to bring your grades up, really, I’m proud.** _

_**Again, I hate to pry, but why do you need to work two jobs? Most people our age don’t even have one.** _

_**Oh, you don’t want to hear about me. Something tell’s me you wouldn’t like me all too much.** _

_**Until next time,** _

_**Castiel** _

_—_

_Cas,_

_Happy fourth of July, man. How’s life treating you? I would ask about your graduation ceremony, but I’m going to assume that it was as dull as mine._

_I work three jobs (just got another busing tables at the local roadhouse, score), for one reason really: my little brother Sam._

_Our mother died when we were kids and our dad isn’t around too much, so I kind of support us for the most part. Plus, I’m saving up for his college. The kid’s smart, a fucking genius — he’ll probably get a full ride. But better safe than sorry, so any extra money I have goes straight to his fund._

_He’s gonna be the best lawyer in the whole goddamn country, just you wait, Cas._

_C’mon, I’d like you! What’s not to like, except your god awful sense of humor, jesus christ._

_Really, spill. Tell me about your life._

_Sincerely,_

_Dean_

_—_

_Cas,_

_Hey, man, it’s almost September (sure you already know that)._

_I was just wondering where you’ve been, I haven’t heard from you in awhile. Still waiting to hear about the sob story of poor Castiel._

_Hope you’re okay._

_Sincerely,_

_Dean_

_—_

_Cas,_

_Happy Halloween._

_Listen, man, I get it. You don’t wanna talk, and that’s fine. Sorry to keep bothering you, I just wanted to say thanks._

_Bye,_

_Dean_

_—_

_**Dean!** _

_**Hello! Fuck, I’m so sorry! You must think I’m such an asshole, Dean.** _

_**My family moved to a different home upstate, and I moved all the way to Maryland — I’m attending Johns Hopkins University.** _

_**I lost several boxes of my things during the move, including the papers with your address. And your letters were still going to our old home. The new owners of the house finally sent the letters to us. My parents sent them to me.** _

_**It’s been driving me crazy, I’ve been wondering about you.** _

_**How are you? How are your jobs? How is Sam?** _

_**Thinking of you,** _

_**Castiel** _

_**P.S. Thank YOU, and I hope your thanksgiving was good.** _

_—_

_Cas,_

_Shit, it’s good to hear from you, man. Johns Hopkins? Nice. That’s a fucking good school, you must be just as smart as Sammy._

_No way, nothing about me. What are you like, Cas? I asked that question seven months ago and still haven’t gotten my answer, bitch._

_Merry Christmas, Cas._

_As always,_

_Dean_

_—_

_**Dean,** _

_**Hi. My name is Castiel Novak.** _

_**I’m from Manhattan, New York. I’m the youngest in my family. Michael is the oldest, then Anael (we call her Anna, because seriously, what is that name?), then Lucifer (contrary to popular belief, you aren’t Satan, Dean), then Gabriel.** _

_**In case the above paragraph didn’t make it clear, we’re all named after angels of the fucking lord. Our parents are very religious, and thought it would be sweet to reflect that in the names we’d have to live with the rest of our lives.** _

_**But for the most part, it isn’t too bad. The only people who ever really teased us for it were the kids in Sunday school, those bastards.** _

_**I attended a catholic boarding school until I graduated, which sucked. Harry Potter really gave me some false expectations, let me tell you, Dean. It really only sucked because I’m not a very religious person, and at least three of my classes had revolved around the bible.** _

_**But despite that, I still chose to honor my parents wishes and attend. Besides, it isn’t that bad having to learn the bible — it has some good morals, even though I don’t agree with all of it.** _

_**I respect it, I guess.** _

_**Sorry, but that’s really all I feel like saying. Not because I’m emotionally scarred or anything, I just hate writing.** _

_**But it isn’t that bad as long as it’s going to you, I guess.** _

_**Shit, I didn’t word that right.** _

_**I mean, you’re just easy to talk to.** _

_**You’re paper.** _

_**I mean, you’re not paper, you’re Dean. You know what I mean.** _

_**Your Christmas present is enclosed. Please don’t feel that you need to send me anything in return, Dean.** _

_**Until we meet again,** _

_**Castiel** _

_—_

_Cas,_

_What the fuck! You son of a bitch, you don’t just send people two thousand dollars and call it a Christmas present, are you insane?_

_Cas, I sent it back with this letter. It’s nice — more than nice, the best thing anyone’s ever done for me, but you barely know me! And I’m not some kind of charity case!_

_I appreciate it, but I can make my own money._

_All money crap aside, though — you sound very interesting. Your family, too. Honest, I swear._

_I agree with you on the stuff you said about the bible. I tried to be religious when I was younger, my dad said faith was good thing to lean on in a life like ours. I dunno, I could never see it._

_But, like you, I do respect it._

_And to your questions from November:_

_My jobs are fine. Busing is probably the best fucking job because people leave me tips._

_Sammy’s great! He’s well into his sophomore year, and is killing it. No surprise there. Like I said, Sammy’s a fucking Einstein._

_You and I have been talking for a year now. That’s weird._

_As always,_

_Dean_

_—_

_**Dean,** _

_**I’m sorry that the amount of money made you uncomfortable, Dean. That was not my intent, really. But I consider us friends, Dean. The people I see in my classes, the people I spend time with here in the real world — I don’t care about them nearly as much as I care about you.** _

_**That sounded creepy, shit.** _

_**All I’m trying to say is that you deserve the extra money. I don’t need it, Dean, I’m a spoiled brat. I go to my cushy college, live in my cushy apartment that my parents pay for, and have more money than I need sent to me every month for groceries and shit.** _

_**You work your ass off at three jobs, and not even for your own well being.** _

_**So, sorry, but I’m sending you the two thousand dollars. Do whatever you want with it — put it in Sam’s fund, pay some bills, buy yourself something you’ve been wanting. I don’t care.** _

_**But if you send it back again, it’ll only be a waste.** _

_**It isn’t charity. We’re friends. You’d do the same for me. And even if you wouldn’t, that doesn’t change anything.** _

_**Send the money back. And you die.** _

_**Death by paper cut, I dunno, maybe I’ll FedEx you a bomb.** _

_**Now when I think of Sam, I imagine some kid with crazy Einstein hair and a mustache roaming the halls of his school, muttering about E = Mc2.** _

_**I’ll assume that’s not what Sam looks like.** _

_**And it’s March, so we’ve been talking for one year and 5 months, you uncultured swine.** _

_**Until we meet again,** _

_**Castiel** _

_—_

_Cas,_

_I wanna hate you, man. Really, if you were in front of me your ass would be mine — and NOT in the fun way._

_Thank you? I guess? Fuck, man, I don’t know how to accept this. It feels unnatural._

_Just thanks. I’ll put half in Sammy’s fund. Half for the bills. I don’t need shit._

_The idea of you sending a bomb is probably the most laughable thing ever, you loser. Of course, it sounds like you probably have enough money to hire your own person team of terrorists, so maybe it’s not that crazy._

_Rich little catholic boy and his group of mass murders slaughter pen pal._

_No, it’s crazy._

_Sammy’s really tall. Scary tall. He’s around 6’3” and isn’t done growing. Sometimes I feel so damn short around him, and I’m 6’1”. I’m not little, but standing next to him, well, it’s easy to forget that._

_He has really floppy hair, girly hair. I keep telling him to get it cut, but all he does is roll his eyes like a little bitch and says that chicks dig it._

_Ha, okay._

_Damn, Cas, are you counting down the days or something?_

_Goddamn, you’ve become obsessed with me, haven’t you?_

_That’s sad, man. That’s real sad._

_As always,_

_Dean_

_—_

_****Dean,** ** _

_****You aren’t very good at flirting, Kansas. You can’t just blatantly bring up my ass, no matter how bad you want it.** ** _

_****I could send a bomb, Dean, I’m very dangerous. Back in high school I was frequently referred to as badass Novak.** ** _

_****That, and fag face.** ** _

_****Ah, memories.** ** _

_****Shit, I can’t even imagine how I’d look standing next to your brother. I’m only 5’10”. But I’m still growing, too. Please dear god, let me grow.** ** _

_****I’d sell my soul to get taller. Well, again. I’ve already done it twice, but I don’t think the ritual stuck.** ** _

_****What do you look like?** ** _

_****Yours,** ** _

_****Castiel** ** _

_—_

_Cas,_

_Shit, your ass is the farthest thing from my mind, Casanova._

_If you really want the ritual to work, make sure you chant Ego Sum Stultus, over and over and over. Very loudly. In public._

_Either way it’ll end up being true._

_And I dunno._

_Green eyes, blondish hair, the normal shit. Why, what do you think I look like?_

_What about you, huh? What do you look like?_

_More importantly, what’s up with your life lately? What’s it look like?_

_Always,_

_Dean_

_—_

_**Dean,** _

_**Oh, wow, you typed mean things in Google Translate and told me to say them, I bet you feel so clever.** _

_**I always imagined you to be hideous. Something that just crawled out from under a bridge, muttering things about car parts and bitches. A hooked nose and some eyes going in opposite directions.** _

_**Have I frightened you with my scary accurate assumptions?** _

_**I’m beautiful. Really, wow, I’m looking at myself in a mirror right now —** _

_**Sorry, I just forgot how to write for a moment. My beauty stunned me.** _

_**No, I’m just how you’d imagine, I guess. Dark hair, blue eyes, yadda yadda.** _

_**Not of import.** _

_**My life is going very well at the moment. I’m a month into my summer vacation, first year of college done. I’m looking to find a job, I’ve never had one before. I want to see what it’s like to have one. I know you’d probably say that it sucks, and I’m sure it does, but I want to be like you.** _

_**I feel so lazy now after meeting you.** _

_**Yours,** _

_**Castiel** _

_—_

_Cas,_

_Yeah, you pretty much pegged me. That’s exactly how I look, how do you do it?_

_I dunno, Casanova. You have such a shitty personality, so I’m sure you’re a knockout._

_It’s good that you want to get a job — it’ll prepare you for the future and any crap that comes with it. But don’t think that you’re less just because I work three of them._

_We’re on two completely different social ladders, Cas._

_I’m lower, you’re upper. Those aren’t bad things, it’s just how things turned out for us. I’m not lesser than you just because I’m kinda poor, and you’re not better than me just because you’re kinda really wealthy._

_Capiche?_

_Now stop bitching. And don’t get a job as a janitor. Learned the hard way just how bad that blows._

_Always,_

_Dean_

_P.S. If you ever feel like talking in a more immediate way, I attached the auto shop’s business card. I don’t have a cell phone, and I’m there all the time. Don’t feel like you have to call, but don’t feel like you can’t._

_You know what I mean. Shut up._

_—_

_****Dean,** ** _

_****Happy August, fuck my life. I have one month before classes start up again, and I still haven’t found a job yet.** ** _

_****I think I had it in my head that all I’d have to do is walk in a place, ask for a job — boom. Job. Happiness. Joy. Whatever. I salute you for your struggles, but I imagine that it’s also easier since you have so much experience.** ** _

_****Yes, I capiche. I just don’t want you to think I’m some rich kid who plans to rely on inheritance the rest of my life. Your opinion matters greatly to me.** ** _

_****And, in regards to your phone number.** ** _

_****I’m terrified to call you. For obvious reasons that I’m sure you’ll act like you don’t know.** ** _

_****Yours,** ** _

_****Castiel** ** _

_—_

_Cas,_

_Your classes have started by now, hope your life isn’t too thoroughly fucked._

_Don’t beat yourself up about getting a job, it’ll come, it’ll happen. It took me forever to get my first job, yet here I am so I must’ve done something right. You will, too, loser. Patience, young numskull._

_I don’t see why my opinion should matter so much — we’ve never met. I could walk by you on the street and never know. But, hey, if it matters, fine. Just make sure that your opinion of yourself stays high._

_You’re my favorite person, Cas, right up there with Sam. I’d never think that highly of someone who was just a spoiled rich kid._

_Well, I’ve got to be going. Sam needs help assembling this science project or something, we have to go buy all the supplies._

_And for the record, I’m just as scared as you._

_Yours,_

_Dean_

_—_

_Listen, Mr. Garibaldy, I know that you need your Jeep fixed by eight in the morning, but if you keep —_

_**This isn’t Mr. Garibaldy. Who’s Mr. Garibaldy? What kind of last name is Garibaldy?** _

_Oh, uh, sorry about that. He’s a customer who came in at the last second, right before the shop was about to close. Something’s wrong with his engine._

_**So, you’re still working on it? Isn’t it really late there?** _

_What do you mean, late here? Where are you, who is this? Why are you calling an auto shop at two in the morning?_

_**Oh, sorry. This is Castiel.** _

_—_

_—_

_Castiel?_

_**Is this Dean?** _

_Yes._

_**I had assumed so. Only an idiot would actually stay at their job until two in the morning.** _

_Fuck you, Casanova!_

_**You’d like that, wouldn’t you?** _

_Shit, it’s great that you called. I’d always wondered what you sounded like. Fuck, I mean —_

_**I know what you mean.** _

_—_

_—_

_**Your voice is pretty deep, Kansas. Exactly what I expected, really.** _

_Your voice is the exact opposite of what I was plannin’ to get. Fuck, dude, did you eat sand for breakfast or something?_

_**Screw you, according to every porno book ever written, my voice is considered sexy as hell.** _

_You read porno books?_

_**I’m at the library often. Sometimes I get bored. They’re right there. It’s the library’s fault, really.** _

_Oh, I’m sure._

_—_

_—_

_I’d better be going, Cas. If I don’t finish this Jeep by eight then we’ll lose a loyal customer. Bobby would kill me._

_**Don’t work too hard, Dean.** _

_I won’t._

_**You’re lying. You’re an awful liar.** _

_Ha, yeah, but what did you expect, really?_

_**This. This is pretty much what I expected.** _

_—_

_—_

_It was nice speaking to you, Cas. Really. And what I said earlier, about your voice, I mean it really isn’t that bad, I —_

_**Thank you, Dean. I like your voice as well.** _

_Thanks._

_**Goodbye, Dean.** _

_Bye, Cas._

_—_

_**Dean,** _

_**Hey, Kansas, guess what? You are now officially exchanging letters with Castiel Novak, librarian.** _

_**Well, not librarian-librarian, all I do is put the books back on the shelves. But, hey! It’s a job!** _

_**The old women who run the place saw me in there so often that they already kinda liked me. And with good reason. I’m an outstanding person.** _

_**How’s that voice of yours, Kansas? How’s life treating it these days?** _

_**Sorry that I was so awkward on the phone. I had a whole list of things that I had wanted to tell you, but the minute you started talking it all kind of went out the window.** _

_**I am much more confident on paper.** _

_**Happy thanksgiving, send my love to Sam.** _

_**Missing you,** _

_**Castiel** _

_—_

_Casanova,_

_I’m so proud of you, you little fucker! What did I tell you, what did I say? You just had to be patient. Don’t be too proud of your waiting skills though, you’re probably the most impatient person ever._

_Working at a library will be good for you. Sounds right up your alley. I can’t really picture you flipping burgers or anything, just doesn’t sound fitting._

_I can just imagine you walking around the library in your lame sweater vests (in my head you wear sweater vests), reading your dirty books._

_Sorry if there are tears on the page, I was laughing pretty hard._

_Life is good, Cas. Sam’s in his junior year of high school now. He’s beginning to fill out some applications, but he doesn’t really know where he wants to go yet._

_Doesn’t matter, he’ll get in._

_He says hello._

_I sent you an early Christmas present, seeing as we probably won’t talk until afterwards._

_Yours,_

_Dean_

_—_

_Hello?_

_****What is this?** ** _

_Cas?_

_****Yeah, I hope I’m not calling at a bad time.** ** _

_Nah, the shop’s pretty slow right now. Christmas eve and all._

_****Why aren’t you at home with Sam?** ** _

_Sam’s at a friend’s house watching movies, they’re gonna drop him off here when they’re done. I’m working on my car, it’s making a funny noise when it starts up._

_****What kind of car do you have?** ** _

_What kind of car do I have? Honey, I’ve got a sixty-seven Chevy Impala, that’s what kinda car I have._

_—_

_—_

_****Should I be impressed?** ** _

_Wha — well, yeah!_

_****Might’ve had more of an effect if I actually knew something about cars.** ** _

_Okay, then how about you go to your little library, get some books, look up my goddamn car and then proceed to worship it._

_****Heh, okay, I’ll get right on that, freakshow. Gosh, I haven’t seen you get this mad about something since I said Kansas was in the middle of nowhere. You get mad over weird things, Dean.** ** _

_Trust me, when you see my baby, you’ll understand._

_****Your…baby? Oh, Dean.** ** _

_Shut up, bitch._

_—_

_—_

_****So, what is this thing? A briefcase? My Christmas present?** ** _

_Oh, yeah, that. I mean, I know it’s not two thousand dollars, but I —_

_****I can’t get it open.** ** _

_Oh? Really?_

_****Yeah, there’s a lock on it, but no key.** ** _

_Oh, shit, that’s my bad. Kinda defeats the purpose then, the present was inside. I’ll send the key in my next letter._

_****You could just tell me what’s inside, Kansas.** ** _

_Well, fuck, Cas! Imagine if everyone did that, gift giving would be pointless._

_****Okay, so you are sensitive about Kansas, your baby car thing, and Christmas presents.** ** _

_It’s just crucial, I want your gift to be perfect._

_****And me. You’re sensitive about me.** ** _

_—_

_—_

_Well, I mean, you know that you’re an important part of — Sammy!_

_****I’m part of Sam? Ew** ** **.** _

_No, smart ass, Sam’s here. I — shut up, Sammy. I gotta —_

Cas?

_****Sam?** ** _

Hey, dude, nice to finally meet you! Dean never shuts up about you!

_****He’s in love with me.** ** _

_—_

_—_

Yeah, he kinda is, huh? I — god, Dean, let go of me, you jerk! Well, Merry Christma —

_Merry Christmas, Cas._

_****Thank you, Dean. Merry Christmas to you and Sam, as well.** ** _

_—_

_Cas,_

_I can’t find that goddamn key anywhere! I’m so sorry, man. I wanted to get you something to show you how much I appreciate you, but fuck it all, huh?_

_How was your New Years? It’s so late in February, I feel like a dick for asking._

_Did you ever look up the pictures of my baby? Pretty, huh?_

_Yours,_

_Dean_

_—_

_****Dean,** ** _

_****Don’t beat yourself up over losing the key. It’s fine really, I’ll just cherish the briefcase instead.** ** _

_****Use it as a pillow.** ** _

_****Cuddle with it.** ** _

_****Wow, how did you train a briefcase to kiss?!** ** _

_****I am impressed.** ** _

_****My New Years was good. I sat in my room and drank some wine that my parents gave me. Crazy, I know.** ** _

_****I like staying in on New Years, when it turns to midnight. So many fireworks go off at once, it’s like I live on a minefield or something. I dunno, I just like that. Fireworks are relaxing.** ** _

_****Yes, I looked up pictures of your baby. It’s a nice car, but I didn’t have any orgasms or anything upon viewing it, so I’ll have to report that it’s only just okay.** ** _

_****Missing you,** ** _

_****Castiel** ** _

_—_

_Cas,_

_Jeez, next time I’ll just send you a blowup doll, Casanova._

_Only you could find fireworks relaxing, weirdo. Although with your past of bomb threats, I shouldn’t find it surprising that you’d enjoy living on a minefield._

_My baby is probably better than any of the pictures you saw, she’s awesome. If you could take a ride in her, Cas, you’d see._

_Yours,_

_Dean_

_—_

_Cas,_

_It’s nearing the end of your school year, I haven’t heard from you. Obviously._

_Everything okay, Casanova?_

_Yours,_

_Dean_

_—_

_Cas,_

_Hey, Cas. Haven’t heard from you all summer._

_Sammy just entered his Senior year of high school, if you can believe it._

_He’s almost there, I’m so proud of him._

_You’ve probably started classes again, how are they going?_

_I hope everything’s okay._

_Yours,_

_Dean_

_—_

_Cas,_

_Happy Halloween._

_Sam sends his love._

_Yours,_

_Dean_

_—_

_Castiel,_

_Merry Christmas._

_I send my love._

_Missing you,_

_Dean Winchester_

_—_

_Hello?_

_**Dean.** _

_—_

_—_

_Castiel, hi._

_—_

_—_

_How…uh…how are you?_

_—_

_—_

_Cas?_

_—_

_—_

_**It’s almost midnight here.** _

_Yeah? I’m an hour behind you. Still at the shop._

_**Clearly.** _

_—_

_—_

_You never write me anymore, Cas._

_—_

_—_

_Dammit, Cas, if you’re going to call me, then you’re going to talk!_

_**I’m sorry, I’m just — I don’t know how —** _

_What do you want, Cas?_

_—_

_—_

_**I have a boyfriend.** _

_—_

_—_

_A boyfriend? Since when?_

_**Around this time last year. I had mentioned my letters to you, and he didn’t like the idea —** _

_That’s why you haven’t been fucking talking to me? Because your damn boyfriend didn’t like us speaking? That makes no sense, why would he —_

_**It makes sense, Dean. You know that.** _

_—_

_—_

_So, why are you calling then? Why not go on ignoring me, I was already on my way to getting the hint._

_**I wanted you to know —** _

_Know what, Cas? ’Bout your fucking boyfriend? Wanna rub this in my face?_

_**Dean, I —** _

_No, no, I should have fucking known. Little rich kid and his rich boyfriend figure out that I was stupid enough to get feelings for a fucking piece of paper, so they just sit around and laugh while I keep sending letters like a fucking bitch._

_**What the fuck, Dean?! That’s not what it’s like at all!** _

_Then what is it like?! Huh?!_

_—_

_—_

_What is this, Cas? Tell me, ‘cause I don’t know anymore._

_—_

_—_

_**When Balthaz —** _

_I don’t care about his name._

_**When he pointed out how often I wrote to you, how he thought I should stop, I was pissed. I thought he was just being a dick. But then I realized that he was right.** _

_**If I wasn’t writing to you, then I was talking about you. I was obsessively checking the mail everyday, waiting for a letter. Standing by the phone, debating whether I should call or not.** _

_**I cared more about you than I did him. Or anyone else in my life.** _

_—_

_—_

_**I thought that it would be easy to stop talking to you. All I’d have to do is throw away the letters before I even read them.** _

_**But of course I couldn’t do that, they were from you after all. I always looked forward to seeing your handwriting, it reminded me that you’re actually out there somewhere. Existing, and stuff.** _

_—_

_—_

_**I have to end this, Dean. But I want it to end the correct way. I don’t want to be a pussy who just hides from you.** _

_**You deserve better than that.** _

_—_

_—_

_Yeah, I do._

_—_

_—_

_I deserve a lot of shit, Cas, and I never ask for it._

_—_

_—_

_I’ve thought about you. Thought about you for three years._

_It had…it started slowly at first. It scared me._

_—_

_—_

_God, and I remember writing down the words and thinking, ‘I gotta stop this, I’m getting too close.’ But I knew I never would. Whenever I got a new letter, I felt like I was drowning in a kind of happiness I’d never felt before._

_And I liked it, I liked drowning, Cas. Because it was you._

_—_

_—_

_And your voice, that didn’t help. Very deep voice, Cas, very nice. It threw me through a loop, it tripped me up, and fuck — I fell harder._

_—_

_—_

_I would say it, but you already know._

_—_

_—_

_**Yeah. I do.** _

_**I hope you won’t mind if I go ahead then.** _

_—_

_—_

_**I love you.** _

_—_

_—_

_**This is just something I have to do.** _

_—_

_—_

_Yeah. Bye, Casanova._

_—_

_—_

_**Bye, Kansas.** _

_—_

_—_

_—_

_—_

Twelve Years Later

—

—

—

—

The auto shop was bustling with wrecked cars and greasy workers, and everything Dean loved, as if someone had pulled comfort from his mind and laid it out before him. Ever since Bobby had retired and made Dean manager, life had gotten easier than Dean ever thought possible. Ease and relaxation constantly curled around him, and he was grateful.

The money came in faster and in larger amounts, he was able to quit his other jobs. Sammy had gotten a full ride to Stanford several years back, cutting the amount of money Dean had to worry about in half. When you lead a difficult life, you'll so often find people telling you that things will get better eventually. But it's always so hard to believe them. Yet here Dean was, past eventually, living in a point of his life that he always thought was nonexistent. It was bliss, plain and simple.

It was all so weird to him, you know? Living a life that didn’t go from paycheck to paycheck, where he could actually have days off and relax. He’d moved out of the shitty trailer park when Sam had moved away. It was a bad neighborhood, and with his raise he could easily afford a nice apartment.

Life was —

Unexpected, to say the very least.

He was under a massive SUV when it happened.

"Hey, Dean, some dude needs to see you," Garth shouted from across the garage.

"Busy!" Honestly, Garth was trained enough to take care of customers on his own. Tell a white lie, say the manager was out on business. But really, what other business could a small town auto-repair man have?

"He asked _specifically_ for the manager!” Dean could practically hear Garth’s eyes rolling, hopefully they wouldn't fall out of his skull.

 

Well, shit, this could be a problem. No one ever asked for the manager unless they were pissed.

Dean rolled out from under the SUV and trudged over to the other side of the garage, wiping his greasy hands on his work overalls.

There wasn’t anyone standing next to Garth.

"Well, where is he?"

Garth looked up from the wrench he was flipping around in his hand. “Out in the parking lot.”

Fucking Garth.

Dean yanked the wrench away from him and started out towards the lot, preparing for some sweaty red-faced customer to ream him over a high bill.

There was only one man in the parking lot, though. He looked around Dean’s age and was dressed in a suit and trench coat, with a briefcase resting at his feet.

Classic businessman.

He looked out of place in the rural area, his clothes were pristine and looked like they'd been ironed several times over. Not a wrinkle in sight. His face was unreadable, blank, but there was something there. Something under the surface of those knit brows.

And Dean might have wondered what the guy was thinking about if he hadn’t been leaning on _the Impala._

"Hey, buddy," Dean spat, marching over to the guy. You didn’t just go around sitting on a strangers car, especially one as damn fine as Dean's.

__Be nice, this is still a customer._ _

The man jumped at the sound of Dean’s voice, his eyes getting impossibly large. Yet it was possible for him. Fuck, they were blue.

Dean smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, it’s just — you were leaning on my car. I’m a bit protective of it.”

The man looked at the car, then at Dean.

No, Dean didn’t notice how handsome the guy was. Because he wasn’t, fuck you, the guy looked like a total dweeb.

"This is…your car?" Major dweeb.

The guy’s voice sounded like broken rock, and hit something inside Dean that he didn’t understand.

"Yes," Dean smiled proudly. "She’s my baby. Sixty-seven —"

"Chevy Impala, yes, I know," the man finished for him, blue eyes roaming over Dean’s face as if memorizing it.

Dean felt heat flood his face.

 _Super total major dweeb._ But Dean wasn't sure if he was still talking about the guy.

The man’s eyes snapped up from looking at Dean’s shoulders. “You’re the manager now?”

"Uh, yeah. The name’s Dean Winchester." The guy’s face broke out into a fierce smile, the skin around his eyes crinkling deeply. How many times must this man have smiled to get those lines? Dean was sad that there had clearly been so many of those smiles, and he was only just now seeing one.

He really was a nice looking guy.

Wait.

"What do you mean _now?_ Do you and I know —”

"I have a favor to ask, it’s not really about cars at all."

Why were the pretty ones always weird?

"Oh- __kay_ _ , spill.”

Mr. Pretty picked up the briefcase and held it out. He gave Dean a peculiar look, as if waiting for something.

Dean didn’t bite.

Mr. Pretty sighed dramatically. “Could you break the lock on my briefcase?”

Who the hell came to an auto shop for this?

Weirdo.

Freak.

Textbook psychopath. Well, probably not, but still. Dean was an excellent judge of psychopaths, don't question him.

"Um…I — I guess."

Mr. Handsome McWeird was still giving him a strange look, but Dean chose to ignore it and instead began walking back to the garage, gesturing for the guy to follow.

All he had to do was bust the briefcase, and the crazy man would be on his crazy way.

When they walked into the garage, past the cars and employees, Dean turned to see him standing so still as if he was afraid that he might wake up from a dream if he walked too quickly. His blue eyes were darting around searchingly.

"What are you looking for?" Was the he gonna try and rob them or something?

"The phone." _Oh, thank god._

But it would have been kind of fun to see this guy run from the cops.

"It’s over by the workbench," Dean mumbled, pointing to where Garth was. "Why, you need to make a call?"

"No," he managed to bite out, gazing at the phone. "I just wanted to see."

Dean was officially worried about this guy’s mental state.

—

It wouldn’t take much to break the lock on the dusty, old briefcase. Just a hammer. Man, this thing looked like it had seen better days.

"So, what, forget the combo?" Dean asked, picking out a hammer. Refusing to acknowledge the way the man was looking at Dean as if he were the world.

And it should have creeped Dean out, really it should have, because this guy was _bat shit insane._ But for some reason, each time Dean awkwardly met those eyes, all he wanted to do was smile.

But he didn’t. Because something about all of this felt tragic as well.

"No, it takes a key, actually."

Dean barked out a knowing laugh, turning his back to the guy as he began pounding the hammer onto the gold lock. “Oh, man, that sucks.”

"Yes, keys are so easy to lose."

"Tell me about it. I bought a briefcase for someone once for Christmas," Dean breathed, pounding onto the lock. It was going to give way soon. "Except, I put his present __inside_ _. The briefcase was just a gag really, because I knew he’d never carry it around and —”

The lock broke, clattering onto the table.

He heard the man breath in.

"And?"

Dean turned around to the man, who was staring at the briefcase now, tears leaking out of his eyes softly.

For a moment, Dean knew exactly why the man was crying. For a moment, he understood.

But that was terrifying.

It wasn’t real.

Moments like this were dangerous, they were the things he tried to stop dreaming about ages ago.

"And I lost the key."

But who could ever really forget this dream.

The man smiled, despite himself. He stepped closer to Dean.

"Do you think you’ll ever find it?"

—

"Garth, close up!"

Garth gawked at Dean, as did most of the employees who overheard him.

"But it’s the middle of the goddamn day! We have deadlines to meet!"

Fuck, Dean didn’t have time for this. “I’ll work on them all tonight! You all know that I can handle it. Now go home, I have some personal business to attend to.”

The workers all stared at him like Dean had been staring at the trench coat man, but Dean didn't care if he looked crazy. Hell, maybe he was, but this was all so....

Crazy.

Everyone started packing up and leaving.

The man watched patiently as they all left. Dean watched the man.

The garage was empty within ten minutes.

—

The man walked towards the briefcase.

This couldn’t be happening.

This couldn’t be him.

The briefcase made a squeaking noise as it opened, after years of silence.

The man lifted up the single piece of paper that rested inside, and let out a strangled noise before reading aloud.

“‘Mr. Shurley, I wanted to thank you. I know that I graduated in June and I’m sure you find it a bit weird that I’m sending you this, but I think it needs to be said.

Thank you for assigning us pen pals to that class in New York. I remember that when you announced the assignment, I thought it was fucking ridiculous. Part of me still does. But it did exactly what it was meant to do.

Through this assignment, I’ve learned that I am a good person. That I’m something to be proud of. I’ve learned that it’s okay to allow yourself to be read by a person like the pages of a book. I’ve learned that you can love someone without ever even meeting them. Distance, and time, and space, these boundaries we set — they are nothing once love comes into play.

I know that you canceled the assignment in April, but I feel like it’s something I’m going to be stuck with for way longer than I ever wanted.

And, shit, isn’t that a beautiful thing?

— Dean.’”

—

The man’s eyes roamed down the rest of the page, where a large “A” was written in red ink. Clearly different from Dean’s handwriting. The letter had been received.

Dean walked up behind him, snaking trembling arms around his waist.

Castiel turned around in Dean’s arms, thick tears gushing from his eyes. He carded a hand through Dean’s hair, like he couldn't believe what was in front of him. Dean knew the feeling.

"I don’t think you were right, Cas. In no way was this an easy A." Cas laughed, resting his forehead against Dean’s. "But hell, did we work for it."

Cas nodded, lips brushing Dean’s. “We have all the time in the world, you and I.”

—

In Dean’s closet, under a loose floorboard, Castiel’s letters were folded into a shoebox.

They wouldn’t be thought of again.

The ink on the pages had finally dried.

 


End file.
